


Jeremy Heere: Poem Analyst

by quarktrinity



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: In which Rich disses his creative writing teacher in the most passive aggressive way possible, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarktrinity/pseuds/quarktrinity
Summary: Rich is very mad about his creative writing teacher, and Jeremy uses this opportunity to analyze some of his poems.(In my head, this takes place after the good end of the Rich route in Be Less Single, which is where the headcanon of Rich writing poetry came from.)





	Jeremy Heere: Poem Analyst

Rich and Jeremy’s dates used to vary in setting, but lately, Rich has taken to showing up at Jeremy’s house unannounced, causing an impromptu date to unfold.

He’d knock on the door, wait for Jeremy to open it, then immediately sprint up to Jeremy’s bedroom and throw his backpack on the floor. Then, he would sit down on the floor and start yelling about things he’s mad about.

Recently, his rant-topics have been about how much he hates his creative writing class; He apparently had quite a few issues with how his teacher goes about poem analysis, and was _not_ afraid of endlessly venting about it to Jeremy whenever they were alone, sitting on the floor across from each other in Jeremy's room.

“She straight-up said she likes this one line specifically because it _sounds nice?! ‘MUSICALLY’?!_ Bitch, the line you like so much means _fucking nothing_ and it’s just a bunch of fluffy words strung together!!” Rich threw his hands around in the air, gesturing vaguely in his frustration.

Jeremy slowly nodded along, trying to keep up with Rich. Sometimes this topic would be lost on him, but he noticed that Rich didn’t avoid words with the letter ‘s’ in them when venting. This brought up the challenge that consisted of not being amused by sentences such as: “Thhe thtraight-up thaid thhe liketh thith one line thpethifically becauthe it _thoundth nithe?!”_

“It’s stupid,” Rich continued, “Like, come _on,_ I just wanna do some actual analysis here! I don’t fucking care about how nice a word sounds!!” He let out a long, d r a m a t i c sigh. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

Jeremy leaned forward, towards Rich. It didn’t bother him that they were both sitting on the floor when they could easily sit on the bed. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Alright, then.” Jeremy let out a short chuckle. “Can I see your notebook?”

That was another thing: Jeremy _loved_ reading Rich’s poems (And trying to make sense of them; Poetry analysis was weirdly fun for him???), and Rich _loved_ showing his poems to Jeremy, so it was mutually beneficial, once they got past the awkward exchange of “Show me what you wrote because it makes my heart happy.”

Rich nodded and pulled his black composition notebook from his bag, sliding it across the carpet until it was sitting nicely in front of Jeremy’s lap.

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile. He opened the notebook and flipped to the most recent pages, where he found three different poems, separated by boxes Rich drew in red pen around them. He used to use different colors for the boxes, but he kept losing all his pens, so he just used red now.

On the left page, there were two poems lined up next to each other, one of which was shorter than the other, so Rich filled up the empty space by filling it with cartoon penises.

Jeremy Heere’s boyfriend is a very funny person.

Above the left-most poem, there was a short description of the assignment:

_“January 15th - Write a poem about a non-human creature having a bad day; Use short lines.”_

Jeremy Heere’s boyfriend also knows how to use semicolons, which is admittedly very attractive to him.

Rich noticed Jeremy looking at the first poem, and decided to comment on it. “My first choice for that assignment was to write about God, but then I decided to write about an Eldritch Horror. I dunno, I think it’s funny.”

Jeremy smiled at Rich and looked back down at the notebook.

_“Not every day_   
_ Is a good day_   
_ For the Eldritch Horror._

_Some days,_   
_ The weeping of babes_   
_ Sweetly satisfies_   
_ A hunger which_   
_ Will only return_   
_ Just a minute later._

_Other days,_   
_ The Eldritch Horror_   
_ Grinds its teeth_   
_ And thus siphons_   
_ The nectar-esque joy_   
_ From the empty hearts_   
_ Of widows_

_But some days,_   
_ Ruminating on the grief_   
_ The Horror has brought,_   
_ Ashamed of its blight,_   
_ The Horror closes_   
_ Its armada of maws,_   
_ And sheds a celestial tear,_

_Which cascades down,_   
_ Down unto the Earth,_   
_ And floods the oceans,_   
_ Spiraling its genocide_   
_ In the unholy name_   
_ Of the Eldritch Horror’s_   
_ Most melancholy hour.”_

Um.

Wow…?

“Holy shit.” Jeremy muttered. “I-…What the _fuck?”_

Rich grinned and nodded his head side-to-side. “I’m pretty proud of that one, even though my generous use of thesaurus-level vocabulary was very ingenuine. I only used those kinds of words because my teacher likes them.”

“I like it.” Jeremy skimmed over the poem again, taking note of the positive comments left by Rich’s teacher in blue pen. “You managed to make me relate to an inherently indescribable creature of darkness and terror… Which can be credited to either you being an amazing poet, which you are, or just me being the paragon of weirdness.”

Rich learned a lot of big words in his quest to do well in his class, which meant that Jeremy slowly picked them up, and now he has to deal with people asking him where he learned the word “Paragon.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s both.” Rich smirked.

Jeremy glared at him before quickly kissing Rich’s cheek. “You’re an asshole.”

“You love it.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy adjusted the position of the notebook so he could have a better view of the second poem. This one didn’t have an assignment description, so Jeremy assumed that Rich wrote this in his spare time.

_“I am who i was not, but i was._   
_ i was who I wanted Them to see._   
_ i was who I wished I could be._   
_ I wasn’t who They wanted,_   
_ So i was who They got._   
_ i was who They wanted,_   
_ Now I am certain I am not._

_I love You._   
_ I hid from You when i was right there._   
_ i hate You._   
_ i made You drift away, though I knew it wasn't fair._   
_ i made you._   
_ i convinced You that You weren't enough._   
_ I hate you._   
_ I watched you abandon all that You loved._

_you made Me realize who I wanted to be,_   
_ And, for once, it wasn't me._   
_ But I couldn't save You._   
_ And i wouldn't save You._

_Sorry._

_i wasn’t what You needed,_   
_ So I was who You got._   
_ You say I am what You need,_   
_ Though i would surely say I am not._

_I love You._   
_ i hate You._   
_ i love you._   
_ I hate you._   
_ I love You._

_I love You."_

Jeremy had to read that one twice just to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Rich was chewing his lip, waiting to see any form of reaction on Jeremy’s face. “…What’d you think?”

“I…” Jeremy went through the poem one more time. “…I don’t understand this one. Why are some pronouns capitalized, but some aren’t?”

“You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can figure it out. Look at the first stanza again.” Rich ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

Jeremy would’ve stared at the motion, but he was engrossed in figuring out the functionality of the poem.

_“I am who i was not, but i was.”_

The first line of the poem makes no sense. It’s contradictory, it’s confusing, and it’s-...

Jeremy realized that for both _“I am who i was not,”_ and _“but i was”_ to be true, uppercase I and lowercase i would have to be separate things.

_...Clever boy._

So uppercase I was something that lowercase i wasn’t. Alright.

_“i was who I wanted Them to see._   
_ i was who I wished I could be.”_

Continuing on to the next two lines, it looks like there’s a new player involved: the mysterious Them. He assumed that this was alluding to the general population, either at school or everywhere.

However, these two lines kind of spelled out directly what lowercase i is.

Lowercase i appears to be… a facade? Or something? Some persona that uppercase I takes on to impress people.

The rest of the poem implies that it’s entirely semi-autobiographical from Rich’s point of view, so in that case, lowercase i would be…

Oh no.

Jeremy hoped he was wrong.

_“I wasn’t who They wanted,_   
_ So i was who They got._   
_ i was who They wanted,_   
_ Now I am certain I am not.”_

The next four lines confirmed Jeremy’s fears. While they rhyme nicely and have a nice structure, Jeremy was definitely sure at this point that lowercase i was referring to who Rich was with the SQUIP, while uppercase I was referring to “The Real Richard Goranski.”

With that mystery deciphered, the rest of the poem clicks easily. Pretty soon, there’s mention of whoever “You” and “you” are, but Jeremy assumed that those meant…

…This poem is making him emotional now.

“You’re crying,” Rich wiped his thumb across Jeremy’s cheek. “Is something wrong?”

Jeremy shook his head and leaned over to wrap his arms around Rich, hugging him tight while hiding his face in Rich’s shoulder.

“It’s-it’s not Yo-Your fault.” Jeremy’s voice was muffled by Rich’s shirt, but it was still audible. “It was never Your-never Your fault, and I love You.”

Rich cautiously held his arms out for a second before settling them, crossed on Jeremy’s back. “…I love You, too.”

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“Now what on Earth are _you_ sorry for?” Rich smiled.

Jeremy went silent.

“…I don’t know.”

Rich gently pushed Jeremy off of him and kissed his nose. “Dry your eyes, cuteass, you can’t read the last poem if you get the page wet.”

Jeremy sniffed and ran his cardigan sleeve over his eyes. “…Okay, I think I’m fine now.”

He skimmed the second poem one more time, for good measure. He noticed that it didn’t have any blue-pen comments written next to it.

Apparently, Rich’s teacher has nothing to say about poems that are 100% meaning and 0% fluffy words.

“Oh, um.” Rich pointed to the last poem, which was on the next page. “Before you read the last one, I should probably tell you that-”

“Shh, don’t tell me anythiiiiiing.” Jeremy put his finger to Rich’s lips. “Let me figure it out for myself. Analyzing your poems is literally my favorite thing.”

Rich blinked, his cheeks starting to burn red. “…Okay, then.”

Jeremy smiled and looked down at the notebook again. Before he read the last poem, he took note of the many, _many_ positive blue-pen comments.

_“January 16th - Free Write; Go nuts, Goranski, just keep it at 20 lines.”_

_“The gardener and his acolyte do not always agree._

_‘The rose is beautiful because its petals are voluminous and red,_   
_ Like a cold flame, bursting from the Earth,_   
_ Whose deep green stem sleeps in the soil below,_   
_ The rose is beautiful because I see it so.’_   
_ Muses the gardener, his boots rooted in the weeds._

_The acolyte, artistic and thoughtful at heart,_   
_ Cannot understand the gardener’s sight;_

_‘The rose is beautiful, as you say,_   
_ But not because of what you see, of the form it displays,_   
_ The rose is temptation, love, and pain,_   
_ Its petals red as the blood of those foolish enough_   
_ To reach for its cold flame,_

_The rose drags the tongues of gardeners like yourself_   
_ With its tantalizing aroma and pleasing silhouette,_   
_ Until you, in your naive perception,_   
_ Bravely and ungracefully taste its thorns._

_Yes, the rose is beautiful, indeed._   
_ But not because of what you smell and see,_   
_ The rose is beautiful because of what a rose means.’”_

This one.

This one was real good.

And Jeremy was pretty sure he had this one figured out almost immediately.

Jeremy looked back up at Rich, who was staring at him.

“The rose is the poem.”

Rich raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a metaphor,” Jeremy kept going. “The entire poem, this poem you wrote, the rose is this poem. Your teacher is the gardener, and you’re… the acolyte…?” He gestured at the poem, not entirely sure of his interpretation anymore.

Rich started grinning. “Oh my God, yes, keep going.”

Jeremy snickered. “Okay, okay, um… Your teacher likes poems when they sound pretty, and you definitely tried to appeal to her taste with this one, because you used fluffy words and made things rhyme sometimes. So your teacher will only see the poem at surface level and appreciate it because of how it looks and sounds, but- …Oh my God.”

Rich’s grin got wider. “What?”

“You just dissed your teacher so hard and she doesn’t even know.”

Rich cracked up into giggles, throwing his head back. “YEAH!!!”

Jeremy laughed with him and closed the notebook.

“It’s actually a really good poem, though. And not just because it sounds pretty.”

Rich stopped laughing and tilted his head.

Jeremy scooted closer to him, to the point where their knees almost touched. “It’s a beautiful poem, and you’re really good at writing poems. It’s beautiful because it means something, and you’re good at that.”

Rich started blushing again. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome~” Jeremy leaned in to peck Rich’s lips.

“Why do you like to analyze my poems so much?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I dunno, I just do. …I guess I like to analyze them because they’re yours.”

They just looked at each other for a minute, smiling.

“God,” Rich laughed, shaking his head. “I really wanna make out with you now.”

Jeremy just nodded. “Should we do that now?”

Rich quickly glanced at the door to make sure it was locked, then looked back at Jeremy.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Never written a one shot before, but I definitely had a lot of fun with this! Spicy Bis is a good ship, and you should play Be Less Single.
> 
> Anyway, yes, I'm heavily projecting onto Rich here, and I wrote all of these poems in my creative writing class. I'm still new to poetry, but I'm pretty sure they're... fine...?


End file.
